Phantom
by Queen Anabella
Summary: Erik had lost it all in one night, but he was never one to be beaten by his failures. Haunted by his past, he abandons Paris and goes to Rome, a city he had once loved. He settles himself as a faceless architect and immediately becomes one of Italy's most
1. Summary

A summary first, shall we?

Erik had lost it all in one night, but he was never one to be beaten by his failures. Haunted by his past, he abandons Paris and goes to Rome, a city he had once loved. He settles himself as a faceless architect and immediately becomes one of Italy's most renowned figures. Money and fame pours in, but the public's growing urge to see this mysterious Erik becomes stronger. And what happens when Erik discovers a small secret by chance? Would it be just that: a small secret he must keep? Or, would it be life altering?


	2. Prologue

Prologue

Shrill screams filled the dark Parisian night. The Paris Opera House was in an uproar. The new soprano, Daae, gone! She just disappeared in the middle of Don Juan Triumphant! Disappeared with the infamous Ghost that haunts the opera house! Everyone thought he was a story…a ploy to help the opera house gain popularity. And some other crew found strangled behind the curtains. It was all too confusing: All too exciting.

Marietta watched the excited crowds with interest. Her dark eyes were adjusting to the outside of the opera house. The furs around her shoulders did nothing to stop the biting winds. But the excitement helped her fight the chill. She squeezed away from the crowds, preferring to stand and watch from the sidelines. Her lips twisted into a grin, watching the scene in front of her with amusement. With a scoff and a toss of her ruby curls, she turned and walked around the corner where she knew her coachman waited.

Paris. Ha! Let them have their fun and gossip. She was going back to the hotel for a drink.

-o-o-o-

Covered with grime and his feet drenched with dirty water, he continued his walk. His mask was gone, left on his throne. The entire city of Paris was after him. He could hear them above him. Within the drainage pipes in which he stood, the shouts echoed across the curved walls.

With a twisted grin, he stiffened his shoulders and continued to walk through the pipes beneath the streets of Paris.

Paris. Ha! He was done with this place. Let them have their fun and gossip. The last remnant of his heart had faded away already. So he thought he could have happiness. He thought he could have love. God, what a fool he'd been!

Ha! Paris. Let them have their fun and gossip. Erik will rise again.


	3. Chapter One

Chapter One

The early afternoon sunlight was lazily drifting into the windows, lighting up her drawing room. With her legs draped over the arm of her chair, Marietta took another bite of her apple. Her gaze was fixed upon her friends, who were seated around her, despite in a much more civilized position.

"And they say that a duchess in _England _has just asked for his advice the building of her new castle…and what's more, he _declined_!" Ermina said, her hands gesturing in excitement.

"I do say he's become the talk of Rome, eh ladies?" Marietta smirked, using one finger to wipe away a smear of juice on the corner of her lips.

Ermina ignored her comment and continued. She turned her body slightly so that she was facing Roberta instead.

Marietta rolled her eyes and bite into her apple again.

"Well, I personally despise the way he's keeping his identity a secret. He's merely seeking attention," Roberta said with a firm nod of her ebony head. "And he names himself 'Erik'. _Really_! If I were to seek attention, I would have used a better name, at least!"

Ermina returned the nod. Her dusty brown eyes slid towards Marietta. "I simply do _not _know how you're taking this so lightly," she said. "If the gossip doesn't faze you, then at least you must admit that this Erik is stealing your husband's business!"

Marietta tensed and bit the apple savagely. "He's not going to steal anything. The public will tire of him soon, and they will run back to Victor. Erik's designs are far less superior to my husband's," she said firmly.

Her friends sensed her mood and changed the subject, talking instead of the new art academy the city was talking to build.

Marietta's attention was diverted now and the rest of the conversation was lost to her. The apple was finished in three more bites and her cheeks were bulging. Awkwardly, she chewed and finally swallowed, feeling the apple go down her throat with difficulty. Well, that's why Nanny always told her not to eat food in big bites.

Erik. Oh, the name was starting to annoy her more and more. During the past months, it became more and more clear that Erik was to become the new shining star in society. But no one's even seen his face yet! The only proof of his existence was the numerous architectural designs that had been issued with his name signed on it. Of course, there was also his business which, to Marietta's distaste, was flourishing. She had seen some of his designs and truth be told, they were simply astounding. The man was a genius.

She flung the apple core down on the table beside her. He was a genius, yes. But he was a genius that was stealing _her _business. She had been providing Italian nobles with architectural designs for the past five years. True, it was under her husband's name, but that was necessary. Who could tolerate a _female _architect?

As lost as she was to the conversation, Ermina's next words caused her eyes to snap up.

"Yes and the city absolutely loved Erik's designs, I heard. The construction will begin in August. Perhaps by as early as 1890, Italy will see its new art academy! I do say it'll be a nice turn-of-the-decade present."

"What?" Marietta asked in alarm. Didn't Signor Valentino promise her husband that _he _would be chosen to design the academy? Why was the assignment given to Erik?

Ermina and Roberta were watching her in silent fascination.

Marietta's hands tightened against the cushions and furiously twisted the fringes between her fingers. This was the last straw. This really was the last straw. She'll be damned it she didn't kick Erik out of this city in shame. Rome was _her _territory and no one was going to take it from her.

She'll have a talk with Signor Valentino. Wait...no. Her _husband,_ the great Victor Damiti, will have a chat with the patron, Signor Valentino. She bit her bottom lip in frustration. Being a woman was her only downfall in life, it seemed.

-o-o-o-o-

Jules cowered in fear at the man standing in front of him. No, not man…Master. Of course, Jules was paid handsomely. Oh, God knows that Erik pays well. But that didn't stop him from stooping to a mere slave in front of the man. Over the past two years in which he had worked for him, Jules's golden crop had turned a limp, graying shade, losing its brilliant luster. His smooth face was now pale and gaunt, steadily loosing the fervent youth it once held.

Jules swallowed and turned his palms out in total surrender. Already, he was seeing his life flash before his eyes. And sadly, it wasn't much of a show.

"Signor, I-I truly-," Jules stammered, a bit lost for words. "I-I don't know how he…I don't know how Signor Valentino gave the job back to Victor Damiti…I don't-"

"I pay you to make it your business to know," the cloaked man answered coldly, glaring down at Jules. "That Damiti…he _was _Italy's leading architect. But now, they have me, don't they? Valentino had seen my designs for the academy and he had agreed to it. There must have been a good reason to _why _he took the offer away and handed it to Damiti."

"I asked—the good Lord knows I asked—" Jules said.

"But you _didn't find anything_," Erik pointed out angrily, his golden eyes glinting dangerously. He turned his back to Jules and gripped the edges of his cloak. He had worked tirelessly on those designs for the art academy. He had lovingly put every stone…every beam…every room on paper, carefully noting his calculations. The building was _his._ It was perfect. It was an architectural wonder! Never had something like that been seen!

And Victor Damiti's designs…He had seen some of his so called masterpieces. They were weak. They were disgustingly feminine. They were…

He sighed. Erik was not a petty man that scorned other people's successes. Especially if they deserved it. Damiti's designs may not have been perfect, but they were tasteful. They carried elegant swooping curves but an undaunted sense of practicality. They were good, Erik admitted regretfully, they were wonderful.

But there was no reason why the job had been taken from him and given to Damiti. After all, Erik had already drawn up the designs. Damiti hadn't done a thing yet. Not a thing. How could they be sure that his plans for the academy would surpass Erik's?

He turned around again and looked at Jules with distaste. The man was only good for a bit of shopping. Yes, he could get him the custom fitted shirts and pants. He could get the cravats and the specific gloves he required, but he woefully lacked the skills of an efficient businessman.

But then again, Jules could keep a secret. He was a foolish man and for that, he was controllable. Jules wouldn't dare breathe a word to anyone. He was trustworthy. Rome had demanded time and time again for Jules to unveil his Master. Everyone was suffocating with the curiosity to see the genius behind the designs. But Jules was relenting. He never once broke his promise to Erik. He never once told anyone that Erik wore a mask. The Erik wore Parisian clothing. That Erik had a strange likeness to the Phantom of the Opera from years ago. After all, the French police still hadn't found exactly _who _the hand behind the murders was.

With a cold, controlled voice that was only just masking his anger, Erik said, "Go and tell Signor Valentino that Erik will not let his designs be ignored unless he was beaten by a better architect. Tell him, that unless Damiti could invent a building plan that could surpass Erik's, then the original agreement was still in motion. Tell him—in these plain words—that unless Damiti could chance upon a miracle and design Heaven itself, then the academy would still be under Erik's hand in construction."

Yes, that was the way. Erik would not allow his dreams to be thrown away carelessly. Damiti might have given Signor Valentino a few liras to sway his interest, but Erik would buy Valentino back with pure talent. Money, he had plenty, but this time, he was going to win by skill.

Well…Skill, yes, but just a bit of _other _influence as well. He'd make sure Damiti's plan will not be superior to his own. How he'll do it, God only knows. And if a fire suddenly springs up in Damiti's household, then surely _Erik _wouldn't be blamed for it.

Without another word, Erik put on his wide brimmed hat and swept out of Jules's study. Jules followed him until they reached the front doors of his flat. When Erik was gone, he finally let out a pent up breath. He put a hand to his brow and closed the door behind the monster. Monster. That's exactly what Erik was, he decided heatedly!

-o-o-o-

"And after I said _that,_" Victor Damiti recounted, "Signor Valentino gladly handed the assignment to me."

"To _me_," Marietta corrected him harmlessly.

He smiled impishly and gave her a mock bow, his chestnut brown head dipping low. "Of course, my darling little wife."

She laughed lightly and stared at her fireplace for a moment more. Turning back around and going back to the night table, she lifted the brandy decanter and filled a cup. "Would you like one as well?" she offered politely.

"No," Victor shook his head. He went to her bed and picked up his hat and gloves, putting them on. "I've got to be going: The city's night life calls. Good luck on the designs," he threw over his shoulder as he left her bedchamber.

Marietta shrugged and lifted the glass to her mouth, taking a sip of the brandy. As Signora Damiti for close to ten years, she didn't expect much from her marriage. If her business deal could be defined as marriage, that is.

She tugged the pale silk kimono robe tighter around her and raised her glass, toasting the air.

"Another win for Marietta," she grinned and drained the cup.

Of course, tomorrow, she would learn that her designs would only be considered by Signor Valentino if they surpassed Erik's. But for tonight, she was the winner.

-o-o-o-

This wasn't fair, she thought childishly. She peeled her gloves off and sank into the seat beside her fireplace. Last night, she was standing in this room, celebrating her victory. Now, she was boiling in contempt. How the hell was _she _supposed to know Erik's designs for the academy? And if she didn't know what the blueprints looked like, she could not pick out the flaws and build a better one.

She got up from the chair and poured herself a drink from the sparking decanter. It was hardly past noon, but like hell she'd care! Still clutching the glass, she swept from her bedchamber and into her study. She'd start right now. She was confident in her skills. She'll be damned it a faceless, new architect could steal _her _glory!

Running a hand over the mahogany wood of her desk, she sank down into her chair and set the brandy down was a light 'slam'. She took some paper from the drawers and bent her head over work. Oh she'd create Eden in all its glory!

Just as she picked up the quill, however, a soft swish of fabric was heard from above her. It caught her attention. She looked up and saw a dark shadow pass over the beams. Marietta furrowed her brows. After watching the empty ceiling a bit more, she shrugged and went back to her work.


End file.
